I've been in a bad mood this week. Work is meh. Husband has been out of town. And I've just been all pouty and mopey and wah like.
Leo is always a bright spot in a dreary day but lately he has taken to throwing his food after the high chair and it drives me crazy! I am psycho about his food. I make just about everything. I lovingly bake bread, make meatballs with veggies, cook him a hot breakfast every day and when he just throws it on the floor it drives me so insane! I think part of my obsession with making all of his food comes from my working mom guilt. I want my son to have all the benefits that a stay at home mom might provide and in my fantasy world stay at home moms make every meal for their child from scratch and my son will not be denied that just because I work damnit!!! And I fully realize that stay at home moms could not possibly make every meal from scratch and I should probably let go just a little so that I'm not staying up till midnight on a work night baking banana bread but I'm a little neurotic so there you go.
I know he is just a toddler and he doesn't mean anything by it. But seeing that food fly to the floor when I've spent so much time preparing is enough to drive anyone mad. Plus, he keeps throwing food to the dogs and that doesn't go well for anyone (my bullies have sensitive tummies).
Today was a trying day at work. I had someone object to my presence at a meeting because it was adversarial and then I got mustard all over myself at lunch right before a video conference (luckily my jacket covered it). The road to daycare was closed so I had to take a huge detour for dropping off and picking up. I forgot my walled and had to track down a co-worker who was willing to (1) have lunch with me and (2) pay for my lunch.
I was actually dreading feeding Leo dinner because I just couldn't take him throwing anymore food on the floor. I had made spinach mac n cheese and chicken/corn/green bean meatballs earlier in the week. I put them all on his little dinosaur plate and put it on the high chair while holding my breath.
And thank sweet, little, 8 pound, 6 oz, baby Jesus he ate all of it! He didn't throw a single piece off the highchair and even used his spoon to eat applesauce. My sweet little boy knew exactly how to make his momma happy! Just watching him enjoy his dinner improved my mood by leaps and bounds. Now tomorrow he'll probably eat nothing but cheesy poofs for dinner. Yay for the roller coaster of motherhood.